


Rhysand's return home

by Writers_____Block2019



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: One Shot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-22 18:41:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10702839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writers_____Block2019/pseuds/Writers_____Block2019
Summary: A short one shot of when Rhysand returns back to Velars after 50 years under Amarantha's curse, without his mate. He can't stop himself from telling Mor everything.“She’s my mate, Mor!” I snapped more harshly than I intended to. “Feyre Archeron, the Cursebreaker, the savior of the Spring Court and all of damn Pyrithian, is my mate.”





	1. Chapter 1

“She’s my mate,” I gasped as my knees connected with the sturdy wooden floors of my court, of the home I hadn’t seen in fifty years.

I panted, my sweat practically dripping off of my wings in puddles. I couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t control my anger, my fear. Tendrils of night escaped from me and I heard her suck in a breath from behind me, surely hearing my impact onto the floor.

Mor.

For fifty years I’d dreamed about seeing her again—about seeing all of my inner circle again—but now I couldn’t bare the thought of meeting her eyes. Of spilling every detail of the last agonizing years. It wasn’t even the thought of Amarantha, of being her whore, that made the details agonizing.

It was the thought of her, my mate, Feyre. The thought of her in my enemy’s hands, the thought of her despising me, wiped away the pain of Under the Mountain in an instant. I’d go through all of it again just to have her back, just to have her look at me without hatred in her eyes. Like she’d done today, before I vanished from her, like the coward I am.

“Rhysand,” Mor said from behind me, coming toward me slowly. “We-we heard that the curse was broken and Amarantha was dead.” Her voice was shaky for a moment but it hardened over in a calm, cool, rage, hinted with some of her usual sarcasm. “You kept us here. Why are you so damn noble?”

“She’s my mate,” I said again though not any louder louder.

There was a pause. And then, “What?” My arms buckled from under me and I collapsed onto the cold floor, relishing in the break from the immense heat I was feeling. _Why was it so damn hot?_  I thought. Mor was by my side in an instant, slinging my arm over her shoulders. She didn’t try to move me yet but instead sat as I shuddered, a sob threatening to break from me.

“Rhys,” she said quietly, cautiously. Never had I heard my cousin so cautious before. “What did you just say?”

“She’s my mate, Mor!” I snapped more harshly than I intended to. “Feyre Archeron, the Cursebreaker, the savior of the Spring Court and all of damn Pyrithian, is my mate.”

“But, Tam—”

“Don’t you dare,” I said quietly and she shut down in an instant. Mor knew that quiet was dangerous with me. “Don’t you dare say his name. Not now.” I could feel Mor in the air, my powers stronger than they’d been in a long time. She was debating whether or not to press me.

I thought she was about to leave when suddenly she said, “Tell me about her. I’d like to know if my cousin’s mate is worthy enough for him.”

“It’s me who’s not worthy, Mor,” I said with my head hung low.

There was a pressure on my chin and Mor forced my eyes to hers. She smiled a little, her eyes bright. She looked not a day older, radiant as ever. She kissed my cheek and leaned her head against me, though we both held each other up. “Rhys, you locked your inner circle away so that you could protect us. You suffered being Amarantha’s…whore,” she shuddered with me at the word, “so that she wouldn’t find us. You are more than worthy.” Though I didn’t believe the words, I quietly thanked her.

“So,” she said, sighing, “tell me all about Feyre Cursebreaker.”

Despite myself, I smiled a little at the thought of her.

About the way she hurtled the bone spear at Amarantha or how her newly Made Fae powers made her even more radiant than before, if it were even possible.

I opened my mouth and began.


	2. An introduction to the tiny ancient one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys's POV of when Amren and Feyre meet for the first time during dinner.
> 
> “Only once before,” Amren began, “was a human Made into an immortal. Interesting that it should happen again right as all the ancient players have returned. But Miryam was gifted long life—not a new body. And you, girl…”  
> Again, Amren sniffed and all of a sudden those gears stopped turning.  
> For the first time in centuries, Amren looked surprised.  
> Her silvery eyes snapped to mine and gleamed, a million questions surging through her.  
> She knew.  
> I nodded slightly.

I tried to contain my emotions at Feyre’s reaction toward Amren.

My mate looked utterly petrified in the presence of my Second.

Though her facial expressions and wide eyes were certainly entertaining, to say the least, I didn’t like the thoughts that ran through her exposed mind. I didn’t like that her instincts were telling her to run from Amren (and Velaris). I didn’t blame Feyre much, though. Amren, as short and tiny as she might be, was fiercely intimidating.

As per usual, my spymaster watched Amren’s every move as she thanked me for the jewelry I’d gifted her. I tried not to smirk at Azriel’s intense seriousness even during his good moods. Feyre certainly seemed impressed by him, at least. She even went as far as to joke with Cassian.

She was trying to want to be here.

She _wanted_ to want to be away from Spring.

Though, it certainly did not help that Amren took a few steps closer to Feyre, causing my mate’s entire body to stiffen.

And then, Feyre held her chin up, as if to intimidate. Though she wouldn’t dare say it, I could tell Amren was impressed already.

“So there are two of us now,” she said. A comparison between Amren and someone else in terms of equality was nothing short of a beaming compliment. Feyre’s eyes flickered with confusion and she clarified, “We who were born something else—and found ourselves trapped in new, strange bodies.” She motioned for Feyre to sit next to Mor I took a seat to her right. We all sat there and Feyre looked around for a moment, trying to piece everything together—though I didn’t know exactly what needed piecing. It was, after all, just dinner.

Amren directed her attention to me and I could practically hear the gears turning in her head, all of her senses alert.

She knew something, she knew Feyre was…different. She just didn’t know how or why.

And it was driving her crazy.

“Though there is a third,” Amren continued, “I don’t think you’ve heard from Miryam in…centuries. Interesting.” Cassian, who was bored as ever, begged Amren to get to the point, causing Mor to choke on her wine. I smirked a little as Amren focused on the two of them and Azriel, in turn, focused on the three. “No one warming your bed right now, Cassian? It must be so hard to be an Illyrian and have no thoughts in your head save for those about your favorite part.”

Despite herself, a surge of humor and relaxation went through the bond, from Feyre.

Mor snorted and Cassian said, “You know I’m always happy to tangle in the sheets with you Amren, I know how much you enjoy Illyrian—”

Not wanting to introduce my mate to my inner circle during a brawl, I took that as my cue to interject.

“Miryam,” I blurted, “and Drakon are doing well, as far as I’ve heard. And what, exactly, is interesting?”

She read between the lines:

_What, exactly, do you know?_

_What do you sense?_

Amren studied Feyre and she shrunk back a little, cursing herself as she did so.

“Only once before,” Amren began, “was a human Made into an immortal. Interesting that it should happen again right as all the ancient players have returned. But Miryam was gifted long life—not a new body. And you, girl…”

Again, Amren sniffed and all of a sudden those gears stopped turning.

For the first time in centuries, Amren looked surprised.

Her silvery eyes snapped to mine, a million questions surging through her.

She knew.

I nodded slightly.

Amren cleared her throat, the most unsettlement she’d show, and I silently begged her not to say anything.

She simply continued, “Your very blood, your veins, your bones were Made. A mortal soul in an immortal body.” I loosed a relieved breath.

“I’m hungry,” Mor said, nudging Feyre, and food piled onto the table. As Feyre stared at everything in awe, Mor’s eyes met mine for a moment.

So then there were three.

A High Lord, a Second, and a Third, who knew.

And none of them were Feyre.

—————

After I returned the two of us home, I left Feyre alone in the house and went to Amren’s immediately. She was just finishing guzzling down her own dinner, blood from a creature I didn’t want to know about dripped down her lips.

Her eyes met mine and softened. “You have a mate,” she said simply, stating the unspoken words. I solemnly nodded. “And she has no idea, does she?” Amren cocked her head, brows furrowed.

“No,” I said, daring to speak, “and you are not to tell her.”

“Is that an order?” She teased, trying to make light of this situation.

“No,” I said, my voice dripping with steel, “it is a plea.”

Again, there was a wavering softness in her silvery eyes. “Don’t worry, Rhys. My ancient lips are sealed.”

“She’s intimidated by you,” I said, trying to relieve myself of some of the tension in the air.

She simply shrugged. “Most people are. She was afraid, Rhys, but she was also…intrigued. She wanted to seem enough for me, for us. She’s brave.” There was a pause and then, “Rhysand?”

“Yes?”

“Why doesn’t Feyre smile?” I sunk down onto my Second’s couch, parallel from her, and placed my feet upon the small table.

“Spring,” I said simply and she could tell I didn’t want to discuss it further. It wasn’t my story to tell. “Mor knows,” I said.

“I know.”

“Cass and Az don’t.”

“They suspect,” she said, even surprising me. “Or, at least Azriel does. Cassian is probably more focused on wanting to train her than he is thinking you’re her mate.”

“You think I should tell her,” I said, stating the obvious.

“I think you ought to tell her,” she confirmed, not looking up from her meal. “You let her stay with Tamlin for months. You could just declare the bond now and avoid war altogether, but you won’t. Why?”

“Because I—” _Because I love her_ , I wanted to say. I wanted to tell Amren that it wasn’t just a mating bond or a bargain or an alliance between me and Feyre. Every part of me belonged to her, though she was oblivious to it. “Because that’s not how I’d want to be mated to someone…forced into it,” I said instead, though Amren was clever enough to read between the blurred lines.

“Just don’t let it linger for too long, Rhys. That girl has had enough secrets for the next century and a half. I doubt she’d take kindly to a secret this large, especially from you.”

“I know,” I hung my head down almost in shame.

“So,” Amren said after a few moments of silence. “Feyre is staying?”

I smiled, “Feyre’s staying.”

“How long do you think she’ll last with us?” She smirked.

I chuckled then and got up to leave, turning by the door. “I don’t think she is the one who needs to worry about lasting.”


End file.
